That one band AU
by kkingofthebeach
Summary: A verse wherein Dean is in a band with his friends Benny and Victor, and Cas is their new singer. It's safe to say their relationship doesn't remain platonic for long.
1. Tease Me

_Kimber came up with the idea for a rock band au, and at the moment there's just a few of us on tumblr contributing drabbles etc, so I'm just crossposting my parts here! Check out the tag on my tumblr to see more stuff like headcanons and fic from other people! So yeah, the chapters are actually more timestamps and doesn't necessarily follow any particular order!_

**Timestamp summary:** The one where they're in a band, and Dean likes to get Cas all worked up when they're onstage.

* * *

It's all a game.

It's a very risky, extremely hot game that they love to play.

The first time was just Dean flirting with Cas, trying to bring him out of his shell on stage and cop a cheap feel. That had just been Dean being selfish, wanting an excuse to rub up on Cas without having to explain that he thinks he's fucking gorgeous and perfect. But then Cas had gone with it, he'd let Dean get too close and slot their bodies together, and his vocals never once faltered.

But now, now it's so much more. The dynamic is different, and this is a game of chicken between two guys that go at it like rabbits when they're offstage. It's a test to see who can last the longest before pulling away, who will mess up first, who will let slip a moan that can't blend into the song. It's teasing and delicious and nobody else has a clue.

The crowd go wild for it - girls watching with wide eyes and open mouths as they move together, hips rolling and dipping and cocks hardening within the confines of tight jeans. Benny and Victor, well they just think the two of them are putting on a good show, rousing the fans and going for it, because there's nothing better than a band with chemistry.

It's almost a ritual. It will happen at every show, but nobody knows when exactly, because contrary to popular belief it is anything but a staged act. What really happens is that Cas keeps looking at Dean when they're playing, he's singing to him, biting his bottom lip and taking him in from top to bottom. His eyes flitting from the audience to Dean, filthy things flying out of his mouth because they write some of their songs now, and boy are they dirty. Maybe not explicitly so, but the subtext is so clear that it'll knock you on your ass. It's worse than the time they covered Pour Some Sugar On Me, and Cas was adding in all these throaty groans and rubbing his hand over his stomach, pushing his shirt up enough to display the jut of his hipbones and the trail of hair disappearing into his jeans.

But Dean wrote these lyrics; he sat up one night and turned all his sweaty fantasies into crude poetry with a heavy guitar riff. He taught these words to Cas with a guitar balanced in his lap and a sated smile on his lips, clothes on the floor and dirty sheets hanging off the bed. And now Cas is on a stage singing the words back again, a wicked glint in his eye as he turns back to Dean. And that's clearly an invitation.

Cas has no idea what he does to people when he's performing, and it only serves to make it so much worse. There nothing quite like watching Cas with both hands curled around a microphone, his mouth so close that his lips brush against it. His hair is damp and floppy, falling into his eyes and dishevelled from being occasionally pushed back. This is Dean's life; watching Cas rise on his tiptoes when he hits a high note, bending over in ripped jeans when he has to hold it. Dean won't even deny the fantasies he's had since Cas joined the band and they started playing shows, before anything began between the two of them, but they all involved Cas' mouth around his cock.

Apparently he's still fond of those fantasies though, because watching Cas becomes a little too much for Dean. So he waits until he knows Cas is looking his way, and grinds a little into the back of his guitar. It's nothing huge and will probably go unnoticed, but Cas' eyes widen when he realises what's happening. And just the fact that Cas visibly reacts is perfect; it has heat pooling in Dean's belly and he's pushes harder against his guitar, trying to get some pressure on his half-hard dick. Cas isn't watching anymore, but Dean knows that he's still in his eye-line by the little falter in his voice.

Dean takes a few steps forward; waits for Cas take a few back, before they repeat.

They're close, Dean's fingers still push at guitar strings, and Cas is still gripping onto the mic stand and has it pointing between both of their mouths. Dean waits for a lull in the song and swings his guitar to hang around his back. And that's his cue to slot their bodies together, to start torturing Cas, grinding against him with deliberate rolls and hard thrusts. He doesn't have to wait long before he can feel the hard line of Cas' cock rubbing against his thigh, lessened only by the constricts of the skinny jeans Dean told him to buy. This is the decider of how he'll treat Cas tonight, if he's a good boy Dean will fuck him slow and thorough and take his time to get Cas trembling and out of his mind. But if Cas screws up, if he let's slip a shaky breath that's too loud or he moans in the middle of a line, then Dean gets to punish him for it. Not that Cas has any qualms about it, because Dean will only treat him rough and fuck him hard and fast into the sheets, couch, or carpet, face down and ass up.

It looks like it's heading that way tonight too, because Cas' knuckles are turning white as he grips the microphone tighter in his hand, stifling the sounds he desperately wants to make. But it's not enough; his pitch wavers and gives way to a heavy exhale of breath, then a few seconds later another moan. Cas' cheeks are pink and his hair is curling at his neck from sweat, and as much as Dean would love to see Cas lose his shit and orgasm on stage, he doesn't think they should risk it. So he lets Cas go and they get on with the show like nothing has happened. He pulls his guitar back around, and unlike Cas he can hide his boner beneath it, and they end the song with a clash of chords.

But what Dean finds the most endearing out of all of this, is that Cas is looking down sheepishly and is completely flustered, not showing off to the crowd and making some lewd remark about what just happened. He's so genuinely embarrassed that Dean just wants to pull him into a hug and kiss his burning cheeks - possibly only after screwing him in the bathroom first though.


	2. Aiming To Please

_Kimber came up with the idea for a rock band au, and at the moment there's just a few of us on tumblr contributing drabbles etc, so I'm just crossposting my parts here! Check out the tag on my tumblr to see more stuff like headcanons and fic from other people! So yeah, the chapters are actually more timestamps and doesn't necessarily follow any particular order!_

**Timestamp summary:**Dean would really like to see Cas in some leather pants, and he just can't keep his hands off him in the fitting room.

* * *

"I am not wearing those," Cas says as he stares at the leather pants in Dean's hands.

"Aw come on," Dean whines, and Cas will be damned if he'll give in to that pout. "All the best rockstars wear them!"

"Yeah, maybe _thirty_ years ago!"

Dean rolls his eyes and thrusts the pants at Cas, who knows that there's no way in hell he's gonna win this one. Dean has already dragged him to three other stores to buy a new wardrobe; and if Dean wants Cas in skinny leather pants, than he's probably going to get exactly that.

"At least try them on," Dean pleads, and he sidles up to Cas to press a kiss just below his ear. "Baby, you'd look so good in them, I just wanna see."

Cas turns it over in his mind, weighs up his options. He figures there can't be too many cons to this, because Dean seems pretty firm in thinking it'll be the best thing ever, and if he doesn't laugh when Cas wears a bow tie then it's unlikely that he'll laugh at this. The pros are very interesting indeed; there's always the chance that if Dean likes them enough Cas will actually buy them, then use them to get the most out of Dean's weird fetishes. It's not like it's a leather-clad gimp kind of thing - Cas knows that it just stems from Dean's idolisation of rockstars in the 70s and 80s - but next thing he knows he'll probably be trying on cowboy hats and chaps.

"Okay," Cas sighs, and Dean blinks at him incredulously for a few seconds, as if he genuinely believed Cas would deny him something.

Dean follows him to the fitting rooms and tries not to throw a bitch fit when Cas makes him wait outside the cubicle. Which, really, is actual torture - because Dean has to sit on a lumpy couch with mysterious stains while the sound of Cas unzipping his jeans fills the air. He's probably doing it on purpose, Dean thinks; he probably knows full well that he'd never actually make it into the pants if Dean was there watching.

It's a good thing at least _one_ of them thinks with their brain and not their dick.

There's more rustling and Dean can just about see Cas stepping into the pants, his only view being the gap underneath the door. He fidgets around on the couch impatiently, already formulating a vision of what Cas will look like when he swings that door open. _God_, Dean's ready to pop a boner just thinking about it.

When the door does open and Cas emerges, Dean is acutely aware that it looks even better than the many fantasies this get-up has starred in. The leather hugs Cas' _everything_, sticking to his flesh like adhesive and showing every minute movement of muscle. Dean would very much like to pounce on Cas, but he can't help but pick out one tiny fault.

"You need to take your underwear off," he says, all business-like and matter of fact. As if Cas' face wasn't flushed enough already, his cheeks heat up and go crimson, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

"What?" He hisses, and Dean holds back a laugh, because Cas will let Dean fuck him senseless on a public bathroom sink but he won't go commando in a fitting room.

"I'm not trying to get you naked - it just doesn't look right! The fabric's all bunched up underneath."

Cas raises an eyebrow and scoffs - a degree of sass that he would never have shown a couple of months ago - and Dean is forced to believe that sex really has made Cas a cocky bastard. Albeit a cocky bastard who belongs to Dean, and so Cas disappears back into the fitting room. There's more rustling before it goes completely silent, and Dean can see Cas shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

"Uh, maybe you should come in here," Cas offers, and Dean doesn't need to be told twice. He jumps up and slips inside, making sure to lock the door behind him before turning to face Cas.

"Holy shit," Dean breathes as he drinks it all in. Cas is standing in front of him with his lip caught between his teeth, looking anywhere but at Dean as his hands fall limply to his sides. Clearly Dean was wrong when he thought the leather couldn't cling any tighter to Cas' skin, because now the guy looks downright _dirty_. He's wearing one of Dean's old t-shirts, something that's become a disgustingly cute habit of Cas', and it's just short enough to show a strip of inviting skin between its hem and the top of the pants - pants that are _extremely_ low slung.

They sit against Cas' hips and it would be downright sinful for them to be cut any lower. Dean can see a whole range of things on show: the jut of hipbones on each side, the V-shaped groove of his Apollo's belt, and the dark trail of hair that begins at his navel and disappears beneath the waistband. It should be classified as straight-up porn, what with the way Cas' package is perfectly framed, outlining the shape of his cock.

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat.

"They're too small."

"They're supposed to be like that."

"_Dean_," Cas whines, not knowing that the sound has Dean's blood instantly heading south. "They're way too tight."

"They're perfect," Dean practically purrs, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of the pants to pull Cas flush against his chest. "You look perfect."

"What are you doing?" Cas asks when Dean nips at his jaw - as if he doesn't know already.

Dean smirks and tugs Cas a little closer, hands slipping down and around to cup his ass. "Showing my appreciation." He brings his mouth to Cas', stopping just a few millimetres away to share the same breath, until Cas finally parts his lips. "Good boy," Dean whispers, then he pushes forward and slides his tongue into Cas' mouth, kissing him slow and open until the stiffness has left his limbs and Cas is rocking up into Dean's body. Dean kisses him until his mouth is pink and swollen, pulling away to sink his teeth into Cas' bottom lip as his hands start to wander again.

Cas' breath hitches when Dean's fingers come to rest at the front of his pants; only where there should be a button and fly, there's the crisscross of a laced-up opening. Dean knows that Cas will probably freak out if he gives him the chance, so Dean latches his mouth to Cas' neck to form a distraction, sucking and biting red marks into the skin. And while Cas is busy pushing his hands up Dean's shirt, he barely even notices Dean pulling at the laces until his pants are splayed open.

All Cas says is a shaky _oh shit_ as Dean takes his cock out of his pants and gives it a few slow strokes.

"We can't - not here - Dean we can't." Only Cas doesn't sound all that convinced, and Dean is already having too much fun to stop. He pushes Cas up against the wall and sinks down to his knees, grin only growing wider at the flash of terror in Cas' eyes. "We're going to get thrown out!"

Dean yanks Cas' pants down to his knees and bites gently at the inside of his thigh. "Only if we get caught."

Cas looks hesitant, but he nods anyway and places a hand on Dean's shoulder, fingers digging hard into the muscle already. Dean would love to take his time with this, have Cas slumped against the wall and shaking with drawn out anticipation, but he'll settle for blowing his brains out with a quickie. Dean wraps a hand around the base of Cas' cock and swipes the flat of his tongue against the slit, teasing mercilessly with long licks and just the press of his lips.

"Please, Dean - please."

Dean looks up at Cas, his eyes already dark and half closed, eyelashes casting shadows across his bright cheeks. And _fuck_, he does look like a rockstar: disheveled hair, bags under his eyes from too many late nights with Dean, a well-worn shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, leather pants pushed down as he gets sucked off. Cas really is living the life of a lead singer - granted, he's swapped the underage groupies for monogamous sex, but it's still fucking perfect.

Dean seals his lips around the head of Cas' cock and sinks down, keeping his eyes locked with Cas' until his nose brushes his abdomen. Cas exhales a wobbly breath when Dean begins to move, sucking hard and taking him as deep as he can. Dean loves it, the heady taste of Cas' cock tinged with the slight bitterness of salt, the feeling of his tongue gliding against the vein on the underside, the soft little moans that Cas chokes out just because of Dean's mouth. It's as close to heaven he thinks he'll ever get, having Cas squirm under him in any and every way possible.

Cas knows that Dean's not giving him everything yet, and he bucks up and pushes his cock further down Dean's throat. Cas lets out a rough groan, but it's cut off when Dean uses his forearm to pin Cas' hips back against the wall and pulls off of his cock, cold air hitting it. "Don't fucking move, sweetheart."

Cas practically whimpers and gets enough brain cells working to stutter out a quick _yeah, fuck, okay._

"Fuck, Dean, please I just - I need you-"

Dean doesn't waste another second and takes Cas into his mouth again, moaning at the stretch of his lips and the nudge at the back of his throat. He holds Cas down with both hands now, fingers pushing hard enough into his sides to leave bruises that'll last for days, reminders that Cas will admire in the mirror and flaunt with too-small t-shirts that ride up when he stretches. Dean sucks him down faster, and when Cas groans just a fraction too loud he stills, nails indenting marks into Cas' skin until he bites down on his fist to muffle the sound.

Dean feels Cas' body tense up before he makes a guttural sound around his hand, and then he's spilling into Dean's mouth, trembling as Dean swallows it all down and pulls off with a filthy pop. Once Dean releases his hold on Cas, his legs give out entirely and Cas slinks to the ground, chest still heaving and his eyes closed. Dean smiles smugly to himself and crawls over to Cas, getting close enough to talk quietly into his ear.

"You definitely have to buy the pants now, don't you?"


	3. Thursday Morning

_Kimber came up with the idea for a rock band au, and at the moment there's just a few of us on tumblr contributing drabbles etc, so I'm just crossposting my parts here! Check out the tag on my tumblr (between2devils) to see more stuff like headcanons and fic from other people! So yeah, the chapters are actually more timestamps and doesn't necessarily follow any particular order!_

**Timestamp summary:** Just because Dean likes waking up to Cas, it does _not_ mean they're dating.

* * *

When he wakes up, Dean really wishes it wasn't midday on a Thursday.

He's hungover to hell and back and feels like he's taken an axe to the skull, not mention various aches and pains in every major muscle in his body, but at least he's in Cas' bed.

His _bed_. Because apparently that's a thing they do now. They're no longer limited to rutting on the couch in Dean's basement, or blowjobs in dirty bathroom stalls, or quick fucks on dressing room tables. Now they allow themselves an actual bedroom with a thick mattress and cotton sheets and fluffed pillows.

After last night's show they'd all gone out for a few drinks at a bar down the street, which inevitably turned into a lot of drinks at lot more bars. They cleared out at some crazy hour of the morning, after Cas had gotten up on the bar to sing along to the jukebox and Benny somehow managed to remove a sink from the bathroom wall. That's about all that Dean remembers - along with the clumsy, energetic sex he and Cas had once they stumbled inside.

And Dean is feeling the after-effects now: the ringing in his ears, heavy eyelids, and dried come on his stomach from passing out on top of Cas. But it doesn't matter, not really; because there's sunlight seeping in through the blinds and Cas is curled into his chest and breathing quietly.

So it's understandable that Dean wishes this were a Sunday morning, or any other time when he doesn't have to drag his ass out of bed and get to work. Why would he want to be serving coffee and muffins all afternoon when he's got Cas right here, a solid weight in his arms as he shifts to press closer. Dean runs a hand down Cas' back and kisses his forehead through a mess of hair. Which is definitely not sentimental. At all.

Dean is about to pull away and get up, but Cas grabs his arm and wraps it back around himself without even bothering to open his eyes. A affectionate smile finds its way to Dean's lips as he watches Cas squeeze his eyes shut tighter, clearly trying to fight the light of the room and go back to sleep.

"Cas," Dean whines, "I have to go to work now."

"Call in sick," he mumbles against Dean's skin, and he chuckles at Cas' groggy voice.

"This isn't high school, I can't just ditch when I don't feel like going."

"Wouldn't know, I never skipped class."

Dean rolls his eyes and squeezes his arm tighter around Cas' waist. "_Of course_ you didn't," he teases, but there's an easy fondness in his tone that has Cas' teeth nipping at his collarbone. "But not all of us get to work cushy jobs at the library with flexible hours."

Dean feels Cas' smile more than he sees it, and it almost keeps him from getting up. _Almost_, but not quite. The thought of Benny - or worse, his boss - calling up to scold his tardiness is enough to get him shifting gears. He waits until he thinks Cas has dozed off again before he slips away, crossing the room to the dresser on the opposite wall. He snags a pair of Cas' clean underwear from the drawer, because Dean assumes that he's entitled to hygiene privileges after all the things Cas has let him do to him.

Dean is just stepping into his jeans and fastening the buttons when he realises Cas is awake again. He's propped up on his elbows and squinting at Dean with sleepy eyes and hair sticking out at all angles. He's pouting his lips ever so slightly, watching as Dean comes near him to grab his shirt from the floor by the bed.

"Just get back into bed already," Cas grumbles, and the order would be so hot if it weren't for how damn adorable Cas looks like that. He reaches out and latches onto Dean's belt buckle, before he yanks him down to the mattress.

Dean sighs dramatically and shakes his head. "Quit it."

Only Cas does the opposite, his fingers slowly sliding upwards against Dean's stomach, coming to rest just above his navel before dipping back down again. He has his lip between his teeth as he mimics Dean, shaking his head slowly.

There's a loud voice in the back of Dean's head that tells him to forget work and slot between Cas' limbs again instead. Except he really does need this job, otherwise he'll end up sleeping on Victor's scratchy couch again until the band picks up. So he tells himself, _no more than some brief making out, keep your hands to yourself, Winchester. _

Clearly, Dean forgets that Cas' hands are capable of just as much mischief, demonstrated by the way he's touching Dean _everywhere_. His palms rubbing across every surface he can reach, fingertips stroking over his neck, then shoulders, and then a nipple. Dean sits down on the bed properly and twists around to meet Cas' mouth, his lips dry and chapped and jaw roughened by stubble.

Cas pulls back slightly. "You have hangover breath."

Dean whacks him on the arm and frowns. "You're no bed of roses either."

So okay, they're both pretty gross, and Dean can live with that for now. It's a minor inconvenience compared to Cas' hot hands on his chest, pulling at his shoulders as he kisses Dean lazily with pliant lips and a content hum.

Quite frankly, Dean is scared by how easy and naturally this comes. To wake up with Cas and push his fingers through his hair. To close his eyes and kiss Cas, the flutter of his eyelashes across his own cheek, a warm buzz rising through his bones. It's scary because this doesn't seem like Just Fucking. Is there a difference between Just Fucking and Friends With Benefits? He hopes so, because the idea of this becoming _more_, he can't even entertain it. There are so many variables, too many ways for it to end up in flames.

In his fleeting fear, Dean's lips have stilled against Cas'. And maybe there's a hint in the way Cas lets him breathe shakily into his mouth. His fingers are on Dean's jaw, then cupping his cheek as Dean moves into the touch.

"Stay."

Dean wants to.

_Fuck_, does he want to. He wants to lick into Cas' mouth until he's boneless and needy, legs parted for Dean to rest between. He wants to fuck Cas into the mattress at an achingly slow pace, have him choking out half-sobs and whimpering, stretching out the kinks of last night like a cat. He wants to hold Cas against his chest and go back to sleep. He wants to be held against Cas' chest, secure and comforted under his soft kisses and contrastingly strong hands.

But he can't. That's a whole can of worms he doesn't need to pop the lid on right now.

So he answers with a bite and tug on Cas' bottom lip, before he pulls away and stands up again.

Dean takes a moment to stare openly at Cas. He could write songs about this. How Cas is laid out before him, sheets twisted around his hips to expose a litany of angry red marks marring his skin. He would need an entire verse to convey the rush he feels when Cas wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue. Another verse for the faint bruises on his wrists. A refrain about the clearness of his eyes in the morning light. Chorus dedicated to the dirty mouth Dean gave him, and the dirtier things he loves to hear. It's a song that would sit ignored, crumpled at the back of his top drawer and at home with all the other lyrics that are too embarrassing to acknowledge.

Cas is staring back at him, and it reminds Dean that he needs to start moving. He picks his shirt up again and sniffs it. Cas snorts when Dean gags and tosses it across the room. "I can't go to work smelling like a homeless musician with a drinking problem."

He feels oddly accomplished at the small upturn of lips Cas gives him.

"Can I borrow something?"

"Yes."

It's only fair. Cas has a whole collection of Dean's clothes. T-shirts from sophomore year, faded hoodies from his college years, the jeans he wore to his first concert. It's disgustingly endearing, and usually leaves Dean wanting to fuck him senseless.

The thing about Cas though, is that he has an interesting mix of everything. Music taste, DVDs, books, and clothes. He shows up in those fucking leather pants one day, and then wears a wonky bow tie and pie-themed socks the next. So when Dean picks up the first thing he sees he doesn't give it a second thought, because Cas is pretty good as distracting him with filthy kisses and edging the sheets further down his body.

It's only when he finally gets to the coffee shop and sees Benny behind the counter, that he realises his error. And apparently it's enough for Benny to spill milk all over his hand.

"What is _that_?" He asks, eyes disbelieving and a laugh hiding in the back of his throat.

Dean looks down at Cas' knitted fair isle sweater and chokes on his own spit. It's soft and comfy as hell, but definitely not something Benny has ever seen him wear. Or any other human being, for that matter.

"_Nothing_."

Benny doesn't comment on the defensive nature of his snap, but he does give him the stink-eye for the next hour.

Dean finds himself resenting the fact that business is extremely slow today, because all he can think about is what he could be doing with Cas in bed right now. What he really _needs_ is a busy rush of customers all in a hurry to keep his mind off it, and what he definitely doesn't expect is Cas stepping through the door instead.

There's no line, and Cas strolls up to the counter looking freshly showered and dressed. Dean makes no effort to hide his bright grin, and is leaning over the countertop before he can stop himself.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, as if a guy can't go for coffee at the place a block away from his apartment.

He hopes he's not imagining the pink flush on Cas' cheeks.

"I thought I'd drop by before my shift starts."

Benny hasn't said a word, is just standing next to Dean and watching the exchange with curiosity as he wipes down trays.

"So, uh, you want tea?" Dean asks, and it's embarrassing that he knows Cas would rather drink tea than coffee in the afternoon. Benny's hand slows, and he's definitely listening intently now.

If Cas notices anything weird he doesn't mention it, only nods and rests his elbows on the counter. "Something fruity. You choose."

Dean goes to the display where they keep all the fancy teabags, and picks up the new raspberry and jasmine one they just ordered in. He vaguely hears Cas and Benny talking while he brews it, and he expects Cas to hang around once he hands his mug over, but he goes to sit at a small table instead.

This is when Benny turns on him, a fire in his eyes that Dean is one hundred per cent worried about. He's just glad Victor isn't here to feed off whatever's fuelling Benny, because together they are a terrifying pair.

"So, what'd you do after you put me in that cab last night?" Benny asks, all false innocence and nonchalance.

"I just, uh, hung out with Cas for a while."

Benny waits a beat, then comes right out with it. "Did you _fuck_ Cas?"

Dean knows his face and ears are burning up at an alarming rate, but his mouth hangs open like a fish and he's not sure what to say to wriggle himself out of it. All the same, his silence serves as a confirmation for Benny.

"Are you guys _dating_?" He presses, and clearly that seems to be a worse offence than the first.

"No!" Dean splutters, because they're not. They're _not_.

"I can't believe you slept with the singer of our band - you are shameless, I don't even know how you live with yourself, bro." Benny scrunches his face up and peers back at Cas, then Dean again.

"Look, there's nothing messy about this, it's totally fine!" Dean says, finally remembering how to formulate actual words.

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure you're practically married already, and you don't even know it."

Benny moves away to greet a customer with an easy smile, leaving Dean planted to the floor and possibly more confused than he's ever been in his life.


	4. ANNOUNCEMENT

Hi, this is just a PSA to say That Band AU has officially moved to AO3. It's a lot easier to post there as it's a combination of various different authors as we can publish it as a series rather than a chapter by chapter story, seeing as the parts are chronological. It's still called That Band AU on AO3 and you can find it by searching that, or alternatively going to my profile which can be found by searching either kkingofthebeach or dirtytrenchcoat.

Thank you all so much for reading and for your support, you've been wonderful! I'm working on an update (well have been for a few weeks) and we'll see if I decide to post that here too, I'm not sure yet. Sorry stuff has been so slow - I'm currently writing a big fic which needs to be over 50K by may 15th and I have major exams coming up so I'm running a tight schedule! Please stick around though!

Thanks for being awesome, stay cool everybody.


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